


And all the other boys try to chase me…

by japastiel



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Crack, Drabble, Ficlet, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Professor/Student Relationship, an au where they aren't related, author is an asshole who cant actually write, college student fingon, i swear i cant write anything over 2k words, please dont take anything i write seriously, professor maedhros, this has almost no basis in canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-21 23:55:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3707879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/japastiel/pseuds/japastiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fingon has a crush on his professor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And all the other boys try to chase me…

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [based on this post](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/108209) by tumblr. 



> [1. I’m writing Fingon as 22-23 and Maedhros is no older than 28]  
> [2. I may have listening to mariah carey’s fantasy on repeat while writing this.]  
> [3. Maedhros’ accent that I mention is me poking a bit of fun at The Shibboleth of Feanor, which you can read more about [here](http://askmiddlearth.tumblr.com/post/49124791260/feanors-lisp)]

            Fingon rushed into the social sciences building, pushed his oversized sunglasses up into his hair and managed to juggle his venti chai latte and Econ 2305 book without dropping either. At two minutes past nine he raced up the stairs, two at a time, to the small lecture hall. Econ was his least favourite subject, not engaging; the least stimulating of any classes he’d taken, but it was also his last core requirement if he intended to graduate at the end of next semester.

 

            However, his econ professor, an economics PhD candidate, was, by far, the most gorgeous man Fingon had ever laid his eyes on. Between the dull material and constant softcore daydreams about trysts in empty classrooms, he struggled to maintain an above average grade. He was late again with only three weeks left before finals.

 

            He opened the heavy door and tip-toed across the dark room, illuminated only by the projector. Professor Feanorion had started to lecture not even two minutes into class.

 

“Ah, hello, Findekano. How nice of you to show up.” Maedhros looked up from his notes. He looked over the top of his reading glasses with a disappointed frown marring his perfect lips.

 

“Sorry professor.” he mumbled, dropping into the nearest open seat.

 

            He valiantly ignored the judgmental look from Gelmir, his classmate who always managed to sit next to him, find excuses for them to talk after class, but never bothered to ask him on a date.

 

            Fingon curled his leg up into his chair and settled in for an hour of his favourite professor talk about the most boring drivel. His attention drifted away from the screen, instead envisioning Maedhros at his mercy; letting him caress his strong jaw and high cheekbones. Fingon's eyes widened when Maedhros lost his place in his notes and captured a sliver of his tongue between his teeth.

 

            Fingon was even more concerned with how every word dripped with sensuality. Fingon was certain Professor Feanorian was trying to seduce him, rising to an unspoken challenge, using only phrases like _fiscal policy_ and _supply and demand_. But with _that voice_ and his deep-vee tee shirt revealing _just_ enough collarbone underneath his casually cool blazer, it wasn’t a challenge at all.

 

            He drifted, lulled by the bewitching tones of Maedhros’ voice. The professor stopped mid-sentence, turned off the projector and asked in his accented baritone, “Findekano, will you please see me in my office, we need to discuss your _performance_.” He dismissed the class and invited Fingon into the adjoining room.

 

            Fingon followed, inquiring, “Professor Feanorian? What did you need to see me about?”

 

            “Findekano, please, call me Maedhros.”

 

            “Of course, _Maedhros_ ,” Fingon tested his name, let it roll across his tongue, tasted it like a new flavour for the first time. He brazenly shut the door and turned the lock, drinking in every inch of Maedhros from head to toe. He swayed his hips just-so, slinking like a predator seeking his prey.

 

            “I’m sure I can satisfy you with my performance, Maedhros.” Fingon brushed his fingers up too-long, perfectly toned legs then reached up and pulled Maedhros' auburn hair out of his stupidly messy ponytail.

 

            Maedhros abruptly hurled his glasses across the room and tossed his hair loose letting it cascade across his shoulders, down his back.  With no regard for propriety, Fingon reached back and savagely threw all the stacked papers from the desk to the floor.  He leapt up, sitting at the ledge of the same desk and tangled his fingers in the smooth waves at the nape of Maedhros’ neck. Fingon pulled him closer until their hips were nearly touching. Fingon paused for a second, letting them share the same breath before claiming those supple, full lips with his own just as something sharp stabbed his arm.

            “Ow!” Fingon looks over and sees Gelmir’s pen jabbing into his arm, startling him back to reality. ‘What the fuck, man?” Fingon hissed.

 

            “It works better if you touch the paper with your pen, you know?”

 

            “Huh?” Fingon looked down, his pen hanging in the air above the paper. He checked the clock, two minutes of class left and no notes. Again. “aw, fuck..”

 

            “Late night?” Gelmir waggled his eyebrows, knowing that sleep deprivation had nothing to do with Fingon’s lack of notes.

 

            “Um, no.” Fingon whispered back as the lights flicked on and Maedhros dismissed his class.

 

            “Do you want to borrow my notes again?"

 

            “Oh yeah,” Fingon put empty notebook away, “Thanks, tha’d be great.”

 

            “How about I get them back from you, say, over dinner, tomorrow night?”

 

            “Oh. Sorry.” Fingon apologized, “I can't, um, I have a thing, for my sister tomorrow. She’s graduating from high school next month.”

 

            “Well, then, how about coffee, Saturday afternoon?”

 

            “Listen- i-“

 

            “You know what,” Gelmir raised his hands and stood, “it's ok. Forget I asked. I’ll see you next tuesday?”

 

            "Yeah,” Fingon felt guilty as he took the offered notebook. “Thanks again,” Gelmir wasn’t bad looking, but he wasn’t the star of Fingon’s fantasies either.

 

            Fingon shouldered his backpack and looked back and caught Maedhros grinning at him over the shoulder of another student. Fingon smiled back, navigating through the desks and-BAM. He crashed right into the heavy closed door.

 

            "Oomf-fuck-” he backed up and wrenched the door open. “Yep, I’m totally fine,” he offered up the nearly empty classroom, rubbing his reddening forehead as he scurried into the hallway.  _I am so fucked._

 

 

 

            Tuesday morning rolled around and Fingon managed to arrive a whole ten minutes early for class, skipping his usual coffee run. Fingon spotted Gelmir and took the neighboring seat.

Fingon offered up the borrowed notebook with a smile, “Thanks again, you're a life saver.”

 

            “You plan on taking notes today, or should I prepare to lend these to you again?” he nudged Fingon lightly with his elbow.

 

            Fingon rolled his eyes, “I’m perfectly capable of taking my own notes, thank you very much.”

 

            “Oh? If I was smarter, I’d say that you intentionally forget to take notes.”

 

            Fingon’s heart leapt into his throat, but instead of offering up an explanation, he opened up his own notebook, and cooly asked,  “Oh yeah, why would I do that?”

 

            “I’m not absolutely sure,” he leaned in, whispering into Fingons ear, “but I’m thinking it’s the perfect excuse for you to talk to me.”

 

            Fingon scrunched his nose and laughed loud enough for the girl in front of them to turn and glare.

 

            “So, if you plan on actually taking notes today,’ he Gelmir continued  “why don’t we make plans for later this week?”

 

            Fingon mulled it over. Pining after Professor Feanorian wasn’t serving him well and dinner with Gelmir would be entertaining at the least.

 

            “You know what, I’ll make you a deal,” Fingon grinned, satisfied with his own sudden cleverness, “I will go out with you.” Fingon held up a finger, “but on one condition.”

 

            Gelmir nodded, eagarly waiting to hear the terms.

 

            “If you can ask the professor one question today, and he gets it wrong, I’ll go out on one. One. Date with you.”

 

            Gelmir offered his hand sealing the deal with a handshake, "You're on."

 

            Nearing the end of the lecture, Gelmir raised his hand, “Professor Feanorian?”

 

            “Yes, Gelmir?”

 

            He beamed at Fingon suggestively before asking,  “Do you think Fingon will go out with me tonight?”

 

            Maedhros rolled his eyes, gave Gelmir a blank stare before he answered firmly, “No.”  And as if no one had interrupted him with a ridiculous question, he wrapped up his lecture with a new homework reading assignment.

 

            “Well, I guess that settles that.” Gelmir puffed his chest and held out a small piece of paper, “Here’s my number, call me later. We'll iron out our plans.” and sauntered away with a wink, assuming he had won the bet.

 

            Curious, and hoping for a short apology, Fingon approached Maedhros after the room had cleared out. 

 

            “Professor Feanorian,” Fingon asked timidly, “I’m sorry about Gelmir, we didn’t mean to make a joke out of your lecture.”

 

            “Don’t worry about it Findekano,” he assured, while packing away his laptop and notes, "and don’t forget about your essay, due in two weeks, MLA formatting for all citations.”

 

            “I’ve already started my final draft,” Fingon offered, nervously tapping his feet, “I do have a question for you, though.”

 

            “Hm? Whats that?”

 

            Fingon exhaled, “Why did you say no when Gelmir asked you if I would go out with him?”

 

            The only sound Fingon could hear was his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He prayed that the floor would crack open and swallow him whole when he didn't get an immediate answer.

 

            Maedhros laughed and, when Fingon looked up, looked nervous, chewing at his lower lip. “Well,” he pushed a piece of loose hair behind his ear, “because I was really hoping that you’d rather have dinner with me tonight.”

 

            Fingon opened his mouth to answer but all that came out was a sound similar to a boiling teakettle.

 

            Maedhros, grinned, “Is that a yes?”

 

            “Oh yes. I’d love that.” Fingon nodded

 

            "Good. Pick you up at...?”

 

            “Eight?” Fingon suggested.

 

            “Eight,. That's perfect.” he confirmed and offered up and pen and post it pad.

 

            Fingon frowned, confused by the gesture.

 

            “For your address, and phone number, although I could get it from the student directory.” Maedhros shrugged, “I think it would be better, if you give it to me.”

 

            “Right, of course.” he scrawled his information down.

 

            “And Findekano?”

 

            “It’s Fingon.”

 

            “Of course, Fingon, maybe tell Gelmir that you’re already seeing someone.” he pocketed the post-it, “and call me Maedhros.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> title is from that one carley rae jepsen song. ugh.


End file.
